


Prompt: Breathless

by Rangergirl3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [29]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (yet), Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Keith (Voltron) Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangergirl3/pseuds/Rangergirl3
Summary: Direct continuation of previous two prompts.
Relationships: Allura & Keith (Voltron), Coran & Keith (Voltron), Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt, Matt Holt & Keith
Series: Whumptober 2019 [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1506101
Comments: 10
Kudos: 123





	Prompt: Breathless

**Author's Note:**

> Direct continuation of previous two prompts.

Keith tries, again, to pull away from the sentry holding him in place, but the weak attempt only succeeds inmaking the Galra general laugh. A pair of booted feet come to stand next to him, and the Galra general’s voice cuts into his thoughts.

“The question of loyalty aside, it seems that you need a lesson in manners, half-breed.”

Keith's stomach twists in both fear and confusion as the general keeps talking.

"It's only proper that in the presence of royalty, you _stand_."

On the last word, something slams against Keith's broken ankle, and he can't help it. He _screams._

* * *

The next time Keith remembers to open his eyes, he's lying on the floor again.

_Pain._

That's all there is. Pain, radiating out from the broken bones, pulsing with every heartbeat. Pain, searing, burning, scorching lines of fire where the knife cut across his face. Pain, pounding and relentless, behind his eyes and inside his chest and - and tearing through his lungs - 

Sounds flicker in and out of Keith's hearing. The General must be...talking...again...

"It seems that he lacks the will to stand, your Highness."

Keith whimpers in wordless fear as clawed fingers reach down and, almost casually, scrape against the side of his face, reopening some of the deeper cuts.

"That, or he does not respect you as much as you might have thought."

The fingers come to rest on Keith's left shoulder, the clawtips digging into the skin beneath the burned, bloody, torn black undersuit.

"But then, what is the respect of a half-breed worth to you?"

* * *

Keith wishes he could find a way to tell Allura that she can't negotiate with this jackass. No matter what happens, the Coalition has to remain united. 

But the truth is, he just wants the pain to stop.

_...maybe...if Allura...._

Even as the treacherous thought begins to form, Keith refuses to allow it time to fill his mind. 

_**No**._

Allura cannot negotiate with this jackass. She can't offer up planets, or star systems, or other lives in order to save his. 

She knows this, and Coran does too, but...Matt and Pidge...they'll blame themselves for what comes next.

Keith grinds his teeth together and tries to concentrate on remaining mostly conscious. It's getting more and more difficult to hide the fact that he's absolutely terrified, exhausted, and heartsick.

He just has to hope that this sick charade ends soon.

* * *

As if sensing Keith's resolve, the General draws a laser gun from his belt and activates the first setting. Then he presses it against the side of Keith’s leg and asks him a question.

“Do you remember what I said before?”

‘ _Speak out of turn again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.’_

Keith chokes back a sob and nods as best he can. Even though the sentry's hand is no longer over his mouth, it’s difficult to get air into his lungs.

The Galra general smiles.

"Well. That's no longer a concern, is it?"

Keith has no time to think before the laser gun goes off, firing off a round of force and electrical charge into his leg.

The first setting is meant to incapacitate, not to kill.

Bones break and skin burns, all the same.

Keith almost passes out. He can’t see, he can’t think, he can’t even scream.

_Screaming._

There’s screaming, but it’s not coming from him. It can’t.

He can’t get enough air into his lungs to scream like that.

... _Pidge_...?

He’s only jolted back into semi-consciousness when the general takes the still-hot barrel of the gun and rests it against Keith's injured shoulder.

Keith shudders in pain as tears begin to gather at the corner of his eyes, but the gashes on his face are still raw and fresh. If he cries now, the salt water will get into the wounds.He doesn’t want that to happen. It would only hurt more.

The second shot rings out. 

Keith’s muscles twist and spasm. His mind is a blur. All he knows is that he just wants the pain to _stop_ , while also knowing, with awful certainty, that no matter what, the Galra general will find a way to use his pain as a weapon against Keith’s friends.

Another burst of agony erupts in the center of Keith's chest, searing away any remaining coherent thoughts.

_Hurts hurts hurts hurts stop stop stop stop please please **please**_

* * *

The light from the comms screen is too bright, _it's always too bright_ , but it's blurry. Not fading, but...

_Motion._

He’s being dragged across the floor, closer to the center of the room, where the General is now waiting for him. On the way, he spits up blood. As pathetic as it may seem, he’s almost glad that he has a reason not to talk as he’s dragged backwards, closer to the center of the deck, closer to the general who threatened to take out his tongue.

He’s so, so tired.

He just wants this to be over.

He’s practically hurled down at the general’s feet, and then a booted foot rests on the side of his face. 

“Well, half-breed, it appears that you have outlived your usefulness.”

Keith squirms in place, but the pressure only increases, so he stops. His entire body continues to tremble.

He wants the pain to end, but he doesn’t want to die. _Please, not like this._

The pressure increases, and Keith lets out a breathless sob. The wounds on his face blaze with renewed agony as tears continue to trickle down from his eyes. He doesn’t dare open them for fear of losing his composure completely, or what little remains of it.

He’s already crying and spitting blood and trembling from head to foot. If he locks eyes with Pidge or Matt-

 _No_. _He’d lose it for certain._

There’s more laughter, and the boot lifts up before pressing down onto the hinge of Keith’s jaw even as he closes his eyes and wishes he were gone, out of this room, out of this ship, away from here.

 _Please don’t kill him where they can see_. God alone knows who’s watching this. The Coalition leader, the Alteans, the Holts -

Matt.

Pidge.

_Please, not in front of them_.


End file.
